


All the Good Times Baby (I've Been Misusing)

by TheDirtyBirdie-Archive (TheDirtyBirdie)



Series: Prompt/Request Fills [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cock Worship, Consent under Duress, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Face-Fucking, Gangbang, Knotting, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Sexual Slavery, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spitroasting, Underage Sex, Vaguely Canon-Adjacent, painal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-28 09:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDirtyBirdie/pseuds/TheDirtyBirdie-Archive
Summary: Since presenting as an Omega Peter has grown sick and tired of the majority of his teammate's treating him like he's not only delicate, which he's not, but as though he's some how less than them because of it. Thor notices his spirits are low and invites him along to Asgard, where Omegas are not only treated with a special kind of reverence, but definitely handled with the furthest thing from delicacy. It's all going swimmingly until Peter's lack of knowledge about local customs leads him to accept a gift from a stranger.





	All the Good Times Baby (I've Been Misusing)

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ THE TAGS:** _There will be PLENTY in this story that warrants a warning, I choose to use tags instead of archive warnings for the sake of specificity._
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> This story fills [an anonymous request](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/171577674656/ilysm-like-your-stories-are-my-life-but-tangent) and it's not an idea I'd ever have thought of but it's one I fell in love with really quick ♥ + I was then convinced to give a/b/o a try with this story in particular [[1](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/171707797411/with-anons-peterasgard-idea-i-was-thinking-that)][[2](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/171736662556/anon-in-reference-i-am-very-cool-with-that)][[3](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/171771766646/you-should-try-writing-abo-its-great-if-you)], again, not something I ever saw myself trying, but I had fun writing it!
> 
> As always, I was picturing a mental amalgamation of all the different iterations of the characters and their various canon backgrounds, so picture whichever you like best. Peter is seventeen (have you noticed that's my favourite age for him?) and Presented when he was sixteen, less than a year ago.  
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>  _Title is from Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin because I am officially on the bandwagon._  
>   
>  For reference: Peter can lift about 25 tons, Thor & Hulk 100+ (incalculable), Volstagg 35-50, Hogun 35, Fandral 30. Steve can only lift about 1,200 lbs, T'Challa 2 tons (with the black panther powers), Tony 100+ tons while in the suit (depending on the version).

Peter yanks off his mask, tossing it angrily to the side, and drops down into the sofa with a huff. He fists his hands in his hair hard enough to hurt just to distract from the frustrated anger threatening to overwhelm him. He knows he shouldn’t be this upset, but he’s so, so sick of the team treating him like he’s- delicate. Fragile. Ever since he presented it’s like they’ve forgotten he’s one of the strongest on the team, not to mention the fact that he was doing just fine before joining up with them, anyways.

Well. There had been a few close calls, but for a kid in spandex he thinks he did alright.

And really, that’s not half as bad as they way they’d treat him if he actually got upset where they could see it. It was bad enough when all they'd just brush off what he said as teenage hormones, now that he’s got omega added to the list? Yeah, no one’s listening to a thing he has to say. Every time he gets the least bit _upset_  they’re totally patronizing and condescending, Peter knows he’s not just imagining it.

“What is it that troubles you, my young arachnid friend?” Thor drops down on the sofa next to him, companionable as ever when he drops a heavy hand onto Peter's shoulder, his grip is enough to make the smaller boy sway. His smile is genial and Peter would very much like to punch him. Unfortunately, Thor is one of the only people here stronger than him, a lot stronger, and he’s also the only one who hasn’t been treating him like he’s useless. So, not only would Peter probably break his fist on Thor’s chiseled face, he’d feel bad about it.

“Why don’t you treat me like the others?” Peter demands. It's not actually what he meant to say at all, and it's perhaps a touch more aggressive than Thor deserves, but he doesn’t seem bothered by Peter's outburst. He supposes Thor is likely used to dealing with this and worse from his own siblings, come to think of it.  
“Ahh, well.” Thor begins, leaning back on the couch and bringing his hands to rest in his lap, almost contemplative. “On Asgard you would already be considered a man, and a capable one, at that. From what I gather, here on Midgard you do not reach adulthood until your eighteenth year. Perhaps they still see you as a child, this is normal, is it not?”

“It’s- I’m not a child!” Peter protests, cheeks burning because he knows that's exactly what he sounds like, when he says it like that. “And that’s not what I meant, anyways. I mean, yes- but not right now. I mean- because I’m an omega, ever since they found out it’s like no one remembers I’m an Avenger.” Peter absolutely does not pout. Thor frowns, puzzled.  
“I don’t think they could forget about you, you’re very loud, especially for one so small. In fact, you almost never stop-”  
“That's not- hey!" He huffs, indignant and a little embarrassed when he notices Thor's grin. “I don’t mean it like that, you jerk, I mean they’ve forgotten that I’m _good_ at being an Avenger. They treat me like I can’t take care of myself! Like I don’t even have a brain in my head, anymore! I’m- I’m stronger than most of them! It’s bullshit.” He insists passionately. Thor laughs.

“You are strong, young spider. Though, not as strong as me.” Thor affirms, puffing out his chest in a way that should really look stupid, but can’t help being a bit endearing. Peter hates him a little for making him want to laugh when he’s trying really, really hard to be angry.  
“Perhaps you would enjoy a trip to Asgard? We revere our omegas, they're something to be cherished." His grin turns just slightly sly, it's not a look Peter sees often on him. "We certainly don’t treat them too delicately.” Thor laughs again, mostly to himself, as Peter sighs.

He wishes it were like that here. The outlook on omegas is... frustrating, to say the least. Alphas and Omegas are rare, very rare, even more so on the part of Omegas. As a result of that rarity, there hasn’t exactly been much of a push to dispel all of the stupid, outdated ideas people have about them. That they're ruled by instinct, ready to bend over and beg for the first alpha they come across. Unable to think rationally in the presence of any unmated Alphas. It's downright archaic, and insanely insulting. There are four Alphas on the team, Thor is the only un-bonded one and Peter is doing perfectly fine sitting next to him, thank you very much. It hasn't been an issue so far and it's not going to be one any time soon. Thor is never weird about it, he just wishes the rest of the team would get on the same page.

"That sounds incredible." Peter bemoans.  
“Well then!” Thor claps him on the back, getting to his feet enthusiastically. “Let’s go.” And without any further adieu he's headed for the balcony, not waiting to see if Peter is following.  
“Wait-what?" Peter stammers, bewildered and excited as he jumps up to follow after him. "Like, for real? Now? Right now?”  
“Of course,” Thor shrugs, making a face like it’s obvious. “Why wait, have you got something better to do?” Thor asks him, his grin makes it perfectly clear he knows that Peter does not, in fact, have anything better to do. Because really, what  _could_ he have better to do than visit an alien planet full of literal  _norse gods_.

He steps out onto the balcony and takes the hand Thor offers as the larger man raises his hammer with a beaming smile.

* * *

* * *

Asgard is every bit as wonderful as Thor has described it, and then some. Peter is in awe from the moment he sets foot on the bifröst through every inch of Asgard Thor shows him. First, they head to the palace, Peter clinging to Thor's back as he flies them there with his hammer. It's faster and strangely more exhilarating than swinging on his webs, and watching Asgard flit by below him brings him a giddy sort of pleasure, like the first time he'd been on an airplane but much, much cooler. 

Once there, the first thing Thor does is outfit him with some fine Asgardian daywear. He gives him a tunic so light and soft it feels like nothing at all, thick, sturdy breeches, and flat, well-worn leather boots to replace his suit with so he won't look so out of place. Peter is sure the tunic makes him look even more delicate next to Thor, who here, among his people, seems somehow even larger than life than he did on Earth. Radiating warmth and pride from the inside out, gleaming in all his kingly glory. It's ridiculous that the setting should make such a difference, but it does. Thor seems not only more content, more at home, but he's lifted up by his people. The respect and admiration in their eyes and their words when directed towards him, it leaves Peter humbled. 

He's not sure he truly grasped the grandness of Thor's life on Asgard, of Asgard itself, for that matter, until now.

He's still coming to grips with it by the time Thor has finished showing him around his favourite parts of the palace, eagerly taking him into the village where he insists he will see, first hand, the interactions between Omegas and the rest of their society. He takes them to a small tavern, bustling with life and joviality, there they meet the Warriors Three and Peter has scarcely a moment to be impressed by them before Thor is pulling him away to point out and explain various different people and their stations, and interactions around them. 

Thor's arm is heavy around him as he plays tour-guide and Peter's cheeks go pink with the weight of it. He blames the Asgardian mead in his hand, stronger than anything he's ever had, for sure. It's almost sweet how eager Thor is to finally have a chance to show one of his friends from Earth around his home without any impending disaster looming over their heads. Peter wouldn't have counted them as particularly close, before, but maybe things will be different after this. 

Just as Thor promised, peter is not disappointed. 

All around him, Omegas are not only celebrated, but they're allowed to carry on, unimpeded, with the best of them. Hitting as hard, yelling as loud, celebrating just as voraciously. It's exactly what Peter wishes he could have. Thor encourages him to make the most of it, promising that Peter will find his people friendly and encouraging him to be as social as he likes. And friend to the king of Asgard is a friend to the people. 

It's no surprise, this time, to find the people just as genial as promised. Before long it's entirely possible that Peter is well and thoroughly caught up in all the joviality around him and only slightly too deep in his mead for true clarity. It makes it almost too easy to forget why he's here in the first place, to let it slip his mind that the same dynamics still exist here on Asgard, just in a different way, and too easy to accept what Peter thinks to be an innocent gift from a stranger. Of course, if he'd had his wits even slightly more readily available, he'd have realized that this gift is not only not innocent, but particularly, obviously the opposite.

A large, bearded man with a sharp grin and warm eyes offer's Peter a thick length of supple, red leather. When he doesn't quite grasp what the purpose would be, the man explains that he means to tie it around Peter's neck for him to wear. Perfectly pleased and unsuspecting with this arrangement, Peter allows him to do so happily. If the man sticks slightly closer to Peter's side, after that, maybe even getting a little handsy, well, Peter's feeling quite good about it.

It's not until Thor comes to retrieve him that he realizes something isn't quite right. 

Thor's eyes land on the leather strap around his neck, eyes going incredulous as his mouth drops open. It's only momentary, before his gaze sharpens and shifts to the man whose lap Peter is very nearly sitting on. 

"What the hell is that?!" The man looks taken aback as Peter glances between them, confused.   
"What do you mean, my lord Thor? It is a claiming collar." He sounds truly baffled as to why Thor would ask him such a thing, and Peter's mind sticks on the words claiming collar.  _Claiming collar_. It takes a moment for him to get it, but when he does,  _uh oh._ Thor pinches the bridge of his nose.   
"You cannot claim him, he's, he's-coming with me! We'll be back in a minute." The man protests when Thor reaches over to drag Peter to his feet and haul him away, but one quelling look from the god of thunder and he drops back into his seat. 

Thor drags him out the door and around the corner, pushing him into a wall and immediately tugging the leather from his neck.  
"Why did you let him put this on you?!" Thor demands, sounding like he's questioning Peter's very sanity.  
"Um, I don't- I just thought it was a gift, you know? I mean... everyone was so nice, it didn't seem that weird? Not like, a big deal?"  
"It's called a  _claiming collar_. You didn't think that might be important?"  
"I didn't know that!" Peter insists, defensive. He is, admittedly, feeling a little dumb.

"Besides!" Peter starts, stepping forward. "You can just like, veto it, right? You're the king, so isn't that how it works?" Thor drops his head with a tired sigh, before looking back to Peter.  
"Not quite, no." Peter's heart starts to pound in his chest, and Thor must see some of the nervousness on his face, because he's quick to start reassuring him. Almost. "Fear not! I do have a solution... of sorts." His smile fades into something of a wince towards the end of his sentence, and Peter isn't feeling quite as confident as he would like to be. 

"Okay... and what is that 'solution'?" Peter asks with caution, not entirely sure he wants to know the answer.   
"Well, as king, you may be freed from your agreed upon period of service-"  
"What-  _service_ -"  
"If I make a claim to you myself, as my claim supersedes that of any un-bonded citizen when made on a virgin. You only have to say yes." Peter is fully aware that he's currently catching flies, jaw on the floor, but it's hard to muster another reply. Eventually, he manages to give himself a mental shake, gathering his thoughts. He's also certain he must be glowing for how red he is. 

"Alright, alright. That's not so bad, right? I mean, you just, like, give me your necklace thing and tell him I'm  _yours_ or whatever and it's done, right?" At this, Thor has the decency to look a bit abashed, his cheeks may even go the slightest bit red, though that could be the alcohol.   
"If only it were that simple. Unfortunately, when the king claims a virgin from another, he still... owes a certain debt, to the people." Peter definitely does not like the sound of this. "You see, since I've taken something away, as have you by agreeing, we must give it back. There would need to be a spectacle."  
"A... spectacle?" Peter hedges, hoping it's not what it sounds like.   
"Yes, we'd have to make one. Of you-well, us." Peter's horror is clearly apparent. "I swear, it's a well loved and honoured part of Asgardian tradition. There's no shame in it at all, it's just how we keep balance."

Peter reaches up to rub at his now-bare throat. That’s... a lot to take in.

Thor looks forlorn on his behalf. "I'm sorry, dear friend, but there is no way for you to leave Asgard with your virtue intact, past this point." Peter sputters.  
"I-oh my god, it's not-I don't care about my  _virtue_ , I care about... the situation!" He huffs, frustrated and embarrassed and more than a little overwhelmed with all of the recent developments coming his way. "How long does the 'spectacle' last?" Thor seems to find it reassuring that he's back to asking questions.

“Well, typically the public claiming would merely last a day, the rest of the service being negotiated privately, but-”  
“A day?!” Peter cries. Thor can’t hold back a smug grin at that.  
“We Asgardians are famous for our stamina. Anyways, I’ve come up with a loophole, if you'd like to hear it?"  
"Um, yes, of course. Why are you even asking?!" Peter nods frantically, motioning for him to get on with it. Thor clears his throat.  
"I will, of course, not ask anything of you beyond the public claiming." He reassures before continuing. "Though I will have to ask the scholars to be sure, I believe that the warriors three might help. So long as it is at my command that they have you, if you bring us all off you may be done your service much sooner.”

This is... not the solution Peter had hoped for. 

"Of course, only I will have you properly, but perhaps you could use your mouth? What do you think?" The suggestion is unreasonably casual, and when Peter considers his options, well. He nods.   
"Ahh, wonderful!" Thor grabs his shoulder again, jovial as ever, and Peter feels like he has whiplash. "I know you're nervous now, but I swear to you, participation in such a ceremony is great fun! I'm sure in time you'll be pleased to have become so  _immersed_ in Asgardian culture on your very first visit." He says it with a winking smile and Peter has to laugh at the sheer gall of winking in a situation like this. 

Thor pulls back and produces a collar of his own, much finer than the red one the other man had given him, though as Thor is king it would hardly be fair to hold that against him. It's deep brown leather with gold filigree and when he ties it around Peter's neck it's impossible to ignore the uptick in his pulse.

* * *

* * *

Peter is whisked away in preparation for the ceremony once they return to the palace. He's scrubbed down from head to toe and left without a scrap of clothing. The people helping him giggle about how no Midgardian has ever taken part in a public claiming before, let alone with a king. It's a little comforting, how casually they talk about it. They never sound off-put or judgmental about what's about to happen, and it offers some reassurance that what Thor had said about it being a respected part of the culture was true. 

However, when Peter is walked, naked, into a Amphitheatre packed with excitable Asgargians, it's more than a little hard to hold on to that. He's told to get on his knees to wait and his skin feels practically ready to melt off with how hot his face has gone by the time Thor arrives, still mostly dressed, to stand before him. 

The combined noise of the crowd and Peter’s own pulse hammering in his ear nearly overwhelms him. Above him, Thor clears his throat and Peter can’t bring himself to look up at him, knowing what he’s about to do, as the position is clear enough. He reaches up with trembling hands and unlaces the larger man’s leather breeches, tugging them down to mid thigh. Thor’s cock hangs limp and heavy and so, so big between his legs. Peter's barely touched him and he already feels like he can’t breathe. 

He’s terrified, sincerely. There’s a sick bundle of nerves and anxiety solidifying in his gut, but that’s not all that's building inside him. His instincts, the ones he fights so hard to deny, to control, are screaming at him with overwhelming force, it's like nothing he's ever felt, and he's realizing now that everything about the position, him on his knees and bare, while Thor stands above him clothed, is designed to illicit this kind of primal reaction from him. He can feel himself aching already, like his body can tell just from the size of him how well he’s going to fill him up, how right it’s going to feel.

It’s that need that overcomes the trepidation and urges him to wrap his hand around Thor’s cock properly. He tests the weight of it in his hands, feels the silk smooth skin under his palm. He finds his fingers don’t even come close to touching wrapped around the length of him while he's soft, the question of how much bigger he’ll get makes Peter's heart rattle in his chest.

“Are you just going to stare at it all day, or are you going to put that pretty mouth of yours to good use?” Fandral jeers from where the warriors three are standing off to the side. Peter’s flush intensifies, if that's even possible, and he chances a look up at Thor. The king sends his friend a quelling look, but when his gaze returns to Peter, he looks slightly apologetic.

“Unfortunately, he’s right.” He whispers. “Best get on with it, or I’ll have to get a little rough. For the sake of ceremony, of course.” He winks, again, charming when it shouldn't be and Peter swallows hard, a shiver running down his spine with Thor’s words. He’s half tempted to push him, make him get rough, but enough of him is still afraid of what’s happening that he does as he’s told.

He shuffles forward on his knees and tilts Thor’s cock up. When he gets closer, the musk of him hits Peter with dizzying force. The scent of an Alpha, and one so impressive, no less. If he’d thought his instincts were hard to tamp down before, it’s impossible now. He’s so overwhelmed he can’t help the moan that escapes him and without putting his mouth on Thor’s cock properly, he sways forward to bury his nose in the thatch of golden curls, hands coming to grip his thighs.

He’s running almost entirely on instinct when he slips his tongue out to lap messily at the base of Thor’s cock. Trying to take in as much of the smell, the taste of him as he can. A large, strong hand comes down to wind it’s way through his hair, pulling him back. He whimpers, tongue chasing the taste on his lips, before the crowd shriek loudly once again and self-awareness punctures the quickly thickening fog of arousal falling over his mind. He doesn’t have much time to contemplate his humiliation before Thor’s other thumb is slipping over his bottom lip, holding his mouth open as his cock comes to bump against his lips and- oh, god.

His thumb is gone and a wave of intoxicating need is rolling over Peter as Thor’s cock stretches his mouth wide enough to make his jaw ache and tremble with the force of being held open so wide. He’s hot and heavy on Peter’s tongue, and when his moan is cut off into a choked gurgle as Thor’s cock pushes down his throat, it feels like his whole body is on fire.

Thor pulls back and Peter can feel the tremors wracking his own body as he gasps for air, but it’s impossible to distinguish whether they’re tremors of shock, anxiety, or desperate, aching need like he's never felt before.

“Look at you!” Thor runs fingers through his hair as he slides his cock down his throat once more. “A natural, perhaps you’re more prone to instinct than you care to admit?” He teases. Peter moans a garbled affirmation around his cock. It certainly feels that way, right now. The praise feels almost as good as the pulsing of Thor growing steadily heavier and hotter in his mouth as he chokes him with his cock. He just wants- no, needs to make Thor feel good. His Alpha, the most Alpha-like Alpha he’s ever met who, by some miracle, is here with his cock in Peter's mouth, getting ready to take him properly. 

Thor continues to pump his cock down his aching throat while Peter revels in the burn of his lungs. Hands twist in his hair again as Thor begins to push his cock into his mouth harder, he can already feel his lips bruising with the snap of his hips.

He’s only tangentially aware that the warriors three have moved closer, the noise of the crowd, their voices, the sound of laces being loosened, it all feels incredibly distant to him, something he hasn't experienced since before getting his powers. All that occupies his mind is Thor’s cock, the taste of it, the weight of it, the need to have it filling him up properly. When he’s pulled off, roughly, he can’t help the whimper that escapes him. He’s sure he sounds pitiful, looks worse with a thick string of saliva still connecting him to the cock bobbing in front of him, now halfway hard.

He looks up at Thor with pleading eyes, and the older man laughs, beaming down at him.

“Remember the plan, now!” It takes Peter’s cock-addled mind a moment to do so, situational awareness warring for presence in his mind. It’s enough to bring crushing humiliation down on him when he really registers the fact that both Thor and the Warriors Three are now standing over him, waiting for him to service them, but not enough to quell the forlorn ache that fills his chest at Thor’s absence.

“But-” He begins to protest, voice coming out more feeble and rough than he’d hoped, though he doesn’t have much chance to feel embarrassed by it when Thor shushes him.  
“Don’t worry, I’m afraid your mouth won’t fit me much longer.” Thor warns with a smug grin. “The Warriors Three will keep it busy while I have you properly.” And, really, how can he argue with that?

Thor lets him go, and Peter breathes hard as the Warriors Three reposition themselves in the middle. Fandral and Hogun to his sides, while Volstagg stands in front of him, none quite match Thor in size but that's apparently a typical disparity between Alphas and Betas. Besides, they’re all more impressive than he’s fairly sure the majority of people on Earth would be, not that he’s got much, or any, experience to back that theory up, it just feels impossible for things to be otherwise. The sight of them makes his chest rattle with nerves while his mouth waters.

When Thor falls to his knees behind him, shoving him roughly forward, he doesn’t hesitate to spread his legs for him as he's thrown off balance, it's almost an involuntary reaction. Volstagg catches him by the hair and wastes no time dragging his head up so his back is bowed, until Peter's hands barely brush the ground he can guide his fat cock into Peter’s mouth without a moment of hesitation. Peter's hands fly up to grab the large man’s thighs but they’re pulled away before he can manage.

“Spread yourself for me.” Thor commands behind him, letting his wrists go a moment later. His voice is rough and Peter moans around Volstagg’s cock as he struggles to comply, hands reaching back to grasp his cheeks and spread himself wide, as exposed as it’s possible to be. Like this, he has no leverage, and the force of Volstagg’s thrusts snaps his head back with every pump. Thor growls appreciatively behind him, and Peter can hear a feral edge that has crept into his voice.

There’s slick leaking down Peter's thighs as the ache inside him grows, knowing that he’s doing good, this is getting to Thor, it makes the want inside him near unbearable. Thor’s fingers come up to trace his entrance and he moans shamelessly.  
“Look at you, so perfect and tight. Never been claimed. Not even close, hm?” Thor gushes. Fandral steps in closer, cock bobbing across Peter’s cheek for a moment, then he’s being passed over to him. New hands slipping into his hair and barely a moment to catch his breath before his mouth is stuffed full of cock once again.

Thor’s hands come up to wrap around his thighs, hard enough that Peter can already feel the bruises forming- and that, shit, he'd barely even been aware of how hard he'd become but the thought of it, an Alpha, Thor, leaving his marks on peter for everyone to see- he comes with a startled gasp as Thor buries his face in Peter's crease. Frissons of pleasure explode across his body, trembling hard as the orgasm takes him off-guard.

Peter moans, messy and wet while Fandral fucks his face in earnest, Thor’s tongue splitting him open, making him feel more dirty and obscene and desperate than anything ever has. It feels so, so alien and so, unbelievably good that he’s not even sure what he could compare it to. Thor’s tongue chases the last coherent thought from his mind as Fandral slides out of his mouth, making way for Hogun to shove himself inside of it next. 

They can see now that he likes it, craves it, even, and some distant part of Peter hates himself for it because this is exactly what he told himself he wasn’t and would never be, but in this moment it’s exactly what he is. Thor pulls back, tongue slipping out of him, and nips at his sensitive skin there as a hand ghosts over Peter’s cock, finger tip dragging lightly over the painfully sensitive head of it to collect some of the come dripping down it. 

“I think we’ll make this memorable,” Thor growls into his skin, moving to bite his way up Peter’s spine as strong hands knead at his waist. “You’re already so desperate, your body needs to truly feel the stretch to be satisfied.” He speaks low and certain into Peter’s ear. Thor’s words pierce through the cloud hanging over his mind like a needle through a balloon. Peter’s heard of this, how when you’re ready to be claimed, body attuned to the commands and needs of an alpha, you become hyper focused on everything they say and do, even as the rest of the world falls away.

He’d thought it was a load of crap, but now that he’s here, he can’t imagine anything else. Can hardly even focus on the cock in his mouth with Thor’s breath against his neck. He understands what Thor’s saying, and it’s exactly what he wants. He knows that unless your body is truly, fully, ready to accommodate an alpha it’s a terrible, stupid idea to go forward without prep, but if it is. Well, it’s supposed to be the _only_ way to do it, pleasurable like nothing else the world can offer.

 “Pull back.” Thor demands, louder. It’s not for him, it’s for the other three. Peter’s hands scramble for purchase as Thor drops more of his weight onto him, knocking his knees wider with his own thick thighs and lining himself up with Peter’s opening. Peter’s breaths are coming in short, sharp gasps and his head is spinning. When Thor drags himself up and down the length of his crease, he can’t help pushing back into him with a whine. It apparently does the trick because Thor’s grip bruises his hips as teeth sink into the muscle of his neck hard enough he almost draws blood and he slams into him with one powerful thrust.

Under any other circumstances, this would hurt like hell. There’s still an edge of pain to it, but it’s numbed by his body deliberately mixing signals. Tricking his mind into interpreting the pain as pleasure, encouraging him to sink back and squeeze down on the cock of the Alpha inside him. The best part is that he’s not the only one. Gone are the gentle, reassuring gestures that Thor normally adopts, he’s now ruled almost entirely by instinct. Peter can feel it in the vicious, bone-breaking snap of his hips. It’s with devastating clarity that Peter realizes no one on Earth, or at least no one he’s met so far, will ever be able to fuck him this hard, this good, again. Isn't it just his luck to ruin himself his first time.

No one else will be able to truly pin him down and use him the way he craves being used. The way he’s built to be used. The combination of that thought and the unbelievable pleasure mounting inside him is enough to force tears from his eyes. When Thor pulls back to fuck up into him even harder, he must give some unseen signal because before Peter can process it, he’s being pulled back up to his hands and knees by The Warriors Three.

This time, he doesn’t have to be prompted. He sinks onto the cock in front of him with a moan, hardly paying enough attention to realize it’s Hogun’s, as he gropes around blindly for the others so he can work them with his fists. The force of Thor’s thrusts is enough to shove his nose into the older man’s pelvis every time he pushes forward. It makes it near impossible to breathe but he doesn’t care. It feels almost angry, and Peter supposes that must be normal. His instincts are probably viciously against the idea of anyone else touching the Omega he’s inside while he claims him, but he’s fighting them regardless, for Peter. 

Through the haze permeating his mind, Peter is struck not only by how oddly touching it is that he would do something like that, but how great his control must be to manage such a thing. He resolves to try and finish off the three in front of him as quick as he can so Thor can knot him without any restraint. It’s the least he can do.

He gurgles and moans around Hogun’s cock, working the other two so close to his face that they brush his cheeks and gives himself over fully to his need to be as full as he can manage. He pulls off with a pop and takes a deep breath before shoving himself down to the root of Fandral, working him sloppy and eager, swallowing around the length of him and not bothering to hide it when it makes him gag. He lets himself sink into it when the blond man moans above him, looking up at him through tear-matted lashes and coughing around his cock. 

He pulls back again and proceeds to do the same to Volstagg. With how thick he is, he doesn’t particularly need to make any extra effort to choke himself on his cock. He alternates like that between the three of them. Pumping them with his fists as he chokes and sucks them down again and again. Eventually, Volstagg grips his jaw, tilting his face up to look at the three of them looming over him as he forces his cock in alongside Hogun’s, Fandral steps in close to drag his cock over Peter’s face, jerking himself so he smacks Peter with it repeatedly. The stretch of both cocks makes his lips burn like hell, and he can only imagine how stupid he looks, two cocks stuffed into his mouth, another hitting him across his face as Thor fucks up into him too hard to stay still, but he doesn’t have to endure it for long.

Hogun empties himself into Peter’s mouth first, hot stream of come hitting the back of Peter’s throat with enough startling force that his instinct is to pull back. Someone’s- he’s not sure whose, hand flies up to stop him from moving away, pushing him further onto Volstagg’s cock once Hogun has pulled away. He empties himself with a guttural groan and this time Peter is good. He doesn’t gag, and slips his tongue out to chase the large man’s cock as he pulls away from his mouth. Fandral is last, choosing instead to spill himself across Peter’s cheeks with a grin and a pinch to the jaw. When he steps back with a satisfied sigh Peter can feel his come slowly dripping down his face.

When Thor drops Drapes himself over him again, forcing Peter into a lower position, only barely kept off the dirt, as one arm wraps tight around his chest and the other supports them, all awareness of anything besides the Alpha above him fades from his mind.

Peter can feel the burn of him just enough that it’s impossible to miss how Thor is growing in size at the base of his cock. Peter can hardly breathe through his eagerness to have his knot inside him. Thor has him held down with such force, such weight, he can feel his bones creaking. He covers him so completely, and it makes his eyes roll back with pleasure to luxuriate in the feel of Thor surrounding him, so much bigger than him in every way. So totally, utterly dominant over Peter in this moment.

Peter knows he’s whining, incoherent noises slipping past his lips without thought or permission, when the arm wrapped around him shifts so Thor can grip his neck his moaning devolves into a desperate whimper. Thor growls into the thin skin of his clavicle as his thrusts become slower and more deliberate, Peter knows it’s coming.

With a heavy grunt, he sinks his teeth into Peter’s neck, this time hard enough to draw blood for real, and forces the knot of his cock past Peter’s hole. No matter how much he may be made for this, no amount of biological intervention can hide the blinding pain of being stretched so wide. Peter’s body is wracked with tremors as his hole flutters around Thor, clenching and unclenching spastically, trying fruitlessly to lessen the stretch of him.

Peter is fairly certain he’s crying for real, now, and the low rumble in Thor’s chest tells him that’s just how he likes it. He continues to fuck up into Peter with sharp, shallow thrusts, stretching him to his absolute limit every time, jaw locked in an iron grip over Peter’s nape. It’s too much, and Peter’s body officially slips below the cresting wave of pleasure and pain that’s threatened to overcome him for a second time since the Warriors Three had finished with him. 

His body feel strange, both hyper aware and numb as orgasm tears through him with force he’s never felt before. It leaves him feeling desperately exhausted and deeply over-sensitive as Thor continues to knot him. With almost no warning he gives a low, almost pained sounding groan, reverberating through Peter’s chest where they’re pressed together, and Peter feels him spill hot inside him. He grinds down into Peter all the way through it, forcing his over-sensitive cock into the ground below them as Peter cries out.

When he’s finally finished he collapses mostly on top of him, rolling them only to the side enough that Peter can breathe. They’re still joined at Peter’s entrance, will be for a while, and Peter is slowly slipping out of the daze he’s been trapped in as a new, deep sense of satisfaction spreads through his bones and Thor carefully licks and kisses at the mark he’s left on Peter’s neck. 

As he lays panting in the dirt with the weight of Thor behind him and his head still spinning, the frantic cheering of the crowd seeps back into his awareness. Shame creeps up his spine and burns at his cheeks and he does his best to hide his face as fresh tears prickle at his eyes. Thor pulls him closer and tucks his face into his neck, sensing his distress. 

“Shh, it’s alright, I promise.” He soothes. “There’s no shame in this, it’s tradition, beautiful, even. I know there’s nothing like it on your planet, but here it’s nothing to be looked down upon. I swear.” Peter nods, trying to convince himself he believes Thor’s words. “I would never bring such shame down on a friend.” Thor speaks vehemently into his ear. “When you’re recovered, I’ll take you to the library before we go, show you the scrolls that detail the tradition. You’ll see.” At that, Peter does feel slightly better. Thor is nothing if not earnest in his intentions and loyal in his friendships. He might not be able to convince himself to believe what he’s said yet, but he puts his faith in Thor to convince him.

When Thor is finally ready to slip out of him, the empty ache of it makes Peter feel somehow more vulnerable and exposed than anything that had come before. Thor wastes no time gathering him in his arms and carrying him from the amphitheatre. Peter would feel embarrassed if he wasn’t so exhausted, all he wants is a warm bed and a hot meal. And, more than anything, a shower. 

Thor carries him to what he can only assume are the older man's chambers, and takes only a moment disappear and return with a damp cloth, cleaning Peter off enough that they can settle into the sheets together. 

There's a million things Peter needs to say, but with Thor's weight against his back, it's surprisingly easy to drift off before he gets the chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I hope everyone had as much fun reading this as I did writing it ♥ ~~I sincerely meant to only make it one chapter long, but by time I finished it just... didn't feel finished?~~ _Sorry! Until further notice, this is being marked complete, I just don't have a lot of energy to write Peter-centric fic, these days. If anyone else wants to pick this story up, feel free! Let me know, I'll link it to this work_ ♥
> 
> Feel free to say hello or leave any requests here or [on tumblr](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/)!


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